"Nance, John J. - The Last Hostage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nance John J)"Nope. There's a maintenance shop there, but it's not ours." Ken looked
over at David, catching his eyes. "You're not suggesting we pass up the nearest suitable airport and go back to base just to save money, are you?" David shook his head instantly. "No, no. I ... I didn't mean that." "The FAA says with an engine gone, you head for the 'nearest suitable.'" "I know. I know." "The company, on the other hand ..." David had his hand out in a stop gesture. "I really wasn't suggesting that. I was just thinking out loud. Durango's fine. Would you program the computer for me, direct Durango, please, and get us a clearance there?" "And declare an emergency?" "Yes, sir. Declare the emergency, let the passengers know, then alert the company." Ken nodded as he punched the transmit button. copilot's movements in the cabin. He'd seen him lean over several passengers to look at the right wing, and he'd felt the momentary fish-tailing just before the copilot turned and reentered the cockpit. He glanced at his fellow flight attendant, Bev Wishart, and raised his eyebrows as the 737 yawed again, dislodging the heavy beverage cart they'd been loading. It began rolling slowly across the galley floor toward the right rear service door, where Bev caught it with a muttered curse. She set the foot brake before looking up at Kevin and frowning. "Turbulence or technique?" she asked. Kevin smiled at her and arched a thumb toward the front end of the plane. "They're probably up there rocking it back and forth on purpose, just like that Gary Larson cartoon." Bev tossed her hair back and laughed as Kevin watched her, happy for the momentary license to do so. A smart, buxom blonde, she was married to a lucky American Airlines pilot and therefore untouchable, though Kevin had quietly longed for her during their multiyear friendship. Bev's huge eyes, which permanently radiated a look of surprise, were her |
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